A Victory Complete: A Rebel Surgeon at Chickamauga

When General Longstreet’s two divisions left Virginia for Georgia in September 1863, there was neither time nor transportation to send along the divisional ambulances and wagons. Those troops went into action shortly after their arrival at Chickamauga and as casualties mounted, the men were left on the field with little prospect of getting to field hospitals along Chickamauga Creek. Surgeon William H. Cunningham of the 19^th Alabama, his own brigade not yet engaged, pitched in to help.

“Their surgeons were not well equipped with the necessary requirements and the wounded necessarily suffered in consequence,” Dr. Cunningham observed in a letter to his father written a week after the battle. “Everyone expressed sympathy for them, but you know a mere expression of sympathy is poor cheer, indeed. I thought to do the utmost in my feeble power for their assistance. I had only two ambulance wagons under my control, but these I used to the best advantage on Saturday evening and Saturday night in carrying from the field Hood’s wounded. Nothing more was attempted on Saturday night than to collect them in groups on the field, remove as many of those groups as possible to the division infirmary, administer opiates, build fires, etc. This latter item was no small one in the catalog. The night was pinching cold and the blankets were in no great profusion. Fortunately, in one essential element there was no scarcity. We had plenty of good water and that to a wounded and bleeding man is more acceptable than nectar.”

Dr. Cunningham, who died soon after the close of the war, wrote this lengthy account of his experiences at Chickamauga to his father. It later became property of his brother John who shared it with Camp William Lee, U.C.V. in Evergreen, Alabama and hence shared it with the local Evergreen Courant newspaper where it was published on January 7, 1925.

 

Implements of the 19th century medical trade included the capital saw at top used to saw through bones. Confederate surgeons struggled with shortages of all kinds in medical supplies and surgical tools throughout the war. 

Camp near Tyner’s Station on the East Tennessee & Knoxville Railroad, Hamilton Co., Tennessee

September 27, 1863

 

Dear Pa,

          I have written you two short and hasty letters since our last sanguinary conflict of the 19^th and 20^th instant. I have not seen a Southern paper since the fight, consequently we do not know how fully they report the results of operations on those two days, long to be remembered by us all as the great battle of Chickamauga Creek.

          Having thwarted the enemy in his attempted flank movements against us via Rome and Gaylesville, Georgia, General Bragg decided to move directly against Rosecrans and give him battle upon the first favorable field. Our reinforcements were fast arriving from Virginia and Mississippi. Burnside was at Knoxville and Kingston and in order that the enemy’s reinforcements should not be allowed time to come in to offset ours. The orders were to countermarch to Lafayette and fight the enemy at the first standpoint they made.

          Our division, under Brigadier General Patton Anderson of Florida, left their bivouac near Lafayette on Thursday night late [September 17^th] and by marching all night we arrived in sight of the enemy’s pickets on the opposite bank of Chickamauga Creek. The whole of Friday was consumed in forming our line of battle and skirmishing with the enemy’s advance for positions thought to be advantageous. General Hindman, who had been left sick in bed at Lafayette, hearing the probabilities of so early an engagement and unwilling to absent himself whenever anything so congenial to his tastes was going on, arrived to relieve General Anderson.

          On Saturday morning the 19^th our right wing advanced to contend for a crossing or ford of the creek which they soon became possessors of and the whole of the right consisting of Buckner’s corps, Longstreet’s corps, and Cheatham’s division of Polk’s corps were rapidly thrown across the stream. About 10 o’clock on Saturday the firing became general along the lines and about that hour the fight may be said to have fairly opened. First, the pickets exchanging whizzing salutes then the line of skirmishers, constituting a miniature line of battle, then the solid and compact lines of battle- infantry, artillery, and cavalry to protect the flanks and bag the prisoners.

This unidentified Confederate captain wears a double-breasted coat with black cuffs which indicates he served in the medical department. 

          Our division did not cross the creek until late in the day of Saturday and were mere idle listeners of the grand but terrible work of our comrades on the right. Occasionally, a misdirected shell or a bullet from a long-ranged Minie or Colt would open our eyes and apprise us of the fact that there were more special senses than one and that we could not only hear but see and feel. In this way, we had a few men killed and quite a number wounded in the brigade, two in our regiment.

Some fears were being entertained on Saturday evening that we were not to be called on at all. The enemy were giving away steadily before the advance of our right: Buckner, Stewart, Hood, and Cheatham with their respective divisions were reaping immortal honors and our boys, ever anxious to share their part of the dangers and glories, were beginning to give expressions to their fears that we would not be in the fight at all. Unluckily for many a brave spirit, their fears were ill-grounded.

The enemy stubbornly contested every inch of ground, giving back only upon the charge bayonet of our invincible heroes and then only a few hundred yards to reform and be charged again. The firing was kept up at a deafening rate until long after twilight and the pale moon had risen to look down with seeming acquiescence upon such scenes of bloodshed and horror to be seen at every turn. Every ravine or old ditch or cluster of bushes was filled with the wounded and dying who sought temporary refuge in them. There was to be seen not only the ragged and ill-equipped Confederate, but the boastful and hated Yankee.

Our line had attacked them so vigorously and stuck to them so closely that all of their dead or severely wounded necessary fell into our hands. Our division not having been engaged by late Saturday evening, my curiosity led me over to the right where Stewart’s and Hood’s divisions had just arrived from off the railroad. They had not been supplied with any ambulances or wagons to transport their wounded from the field. Their surgeons were not well equipped with the necessary requirements and the wounded necessarily suffered in consequence. Everyone expressed sympathy for them, but you know a mere expression of sympathy is poor cheer, indeed.

The Army of Tennessee used a wide variety of wagons in their ambulance service, many of them civilian wagons that had been appropriated when the army was in camp at Tupelo, Mississippi in the summer of 1862. Major Silas Grisamore observed that the army's quartermasters "under the necessity of procuring forage, animals, and means of transportation...were often compelled to take such articles wherever they could be found without regard to the wishes or desires of the so-called possessors." 

I thought to do the utmost in my feeble power for their assistance. I had only two ambulance wagons under my control, but these I used to the best advantage on Saturday evening and Saturday night in carrying from the field Hood’s wounded. Nothing more was attempted on Saturday night than to collect them in groups on the field, remove as many of those groups as possible to the division infirmary, administer opiates, build fires, etc. This latter item was no small one in the catalog. The night was pinching cold and the blankets were in no great profusion. Fortunately, in one essential element there was no scarcity. We had plenty of good water and that to a wounded and bleeding man is more acceptable than nectar. The division infirmaries were all placed very near the large creek which has furnished its name for the battle. At Hood’s division infirmary, I saw several old acquaintances, some wounded, and some engaged in the humane work of administering relief to the suffering multitudes. Among the latter were Surgeons Talliaferro and Ben Watkins of the 4^th and 44^th Alabama regiments. Both were hard at work caring for the wounded of their respective regiments.

All Saturday night, the enemy was occupied in massing troops on their left, our right. The rumbling and distant rattle of wagons and artillery were heard the whole night. Our side held the battleground, every inch of it, having suffered only one slight reverse during the day, the loss by capture of a considerable part of Preston Smith’s brigade of Cheatham’s division. This was attributable to the temporary disorganization produced in his command by the fall of their gallant chief. The day’s work, though a hard one and entirely satisfactory to our arms, was indecisive, and it required no great prophetic powers to foretell what was in store for us on the morrow.

Sure enough, Sunday morning came. The great orb of light, after seemingly a great struggle, lifted its head above the smoke and dense fog which had settled upon the earth and commenced its course through the heavens. What a day it was! How infinitely short, and seemingly so very long. With fewer preliminaries than on the day previous, the battle opened. Division after division, brigade after brigade, was ordered forward and to the charge and nobly they did their duty. Hindman’s division was not long in receiving the command to forward march. It might appear like vanity in me to say that never did men more fully perform their while duty. The day’s work was almost one continual charge of the bayonet, that terrible weapon which invariably wins when properly manned and used in the right cause.

Unknown Private, 19th Alabama
Stan Hutson Collection

Deas’ brigade lost in killed and wounded 765 out of the 1,700 carried into action. The 19^th Alabama carried into action 480 men, 44 of whom were buried on the field, 172 others numbered among the wounded, many of whom lived only a few hours after being removed to the rear. Those of our fortunate braves of that fearful day’s work lay and slept on their arms Sunday night. The enemy had been driven at every point and his dead and wounded were thick upon the ground. We captured between 4,000 and 5,000 prisoners and over 40 pieces of artillery had been deserted and left upon the field. We were in undisputed possession of the whole battlefield; it was no drawn battle. The victory was complete and for us.

All during Sunday night prisoners were coming in singly and in squads and once by scores, no less than 56 coming in and wanting to know “to whom they must surrender and where they should go?” On Monday morning, our cavalry, who may be said are never fairly engaged in great battles like this one, were sent out to reconnoiter and to collect prisoners. They reported no enemy in our front. This was not entirely unexpected for the heavy rumbling of trains going to their rear had been heard during the night. The whole of them had been whipped and during the night had commenced to retreat upon Chattanooga some 10-12 miles from the field of their disaster and our triumph.

Our forces, it is fair to presume, were seriously crippled. Those of them who were able to stack arms on Sunday night were so much fatigued that it was deemed not prudent to attempt a rapid pursuit. We rested until 2 p.m. Monday afternoon when we set out again, marching by the right flank. But for the medical staff, our labor had just begun. Our wounded were all collected and made comfortable in the division infirmary on Chickamauga Creek. The dead were buried by parties detailed for that purpose and next engaging our attention were the hundreds of wounded Yankees begging and pleading for us not to leave them but “do something for me.” Nothing but a sense of humanity induced me to give them such of my attention as could be spared from our own men.

Matters look quite promising in this quarter. There is no doubting that we have whipped their best army, not a portion of the army but the whole concern. But our loss is very great. In generals, we have lost seven including General Hood who died since the amputation of his leg [Not quite-Ed.] Preston Smith, Dan Adams, Deshler, Helm and two others I cannot now call to mind. I lost several good friends and none of them more lamented than the brave Nott.

It is still very dry with us. Whenever we have to march, the dust is almost intolerable. We’ve had no rain for more than eight weeks. No complaint with us on score of rations as one pound of cornbread and half a pound of beef is issued as a daily ration.

 

Source:

Letter from Surgeon William H. Cunningham, 19^th Alabama Infantry, Evergreen Courant (Alabama), January 7, 1925, pg. 1